Leaving Storybrooke
by daykestrel
Summary: Regina has lost. She only sees one option. Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N So it's the week between the sixth and seventh episodes of the Season Two. We just learned more of Emma's back story, and something started to spin in my head. I know the episodes in the coming weeks will blow all this away. In fact many of the spoilers have already blown this away. But in the meantime, in this week in between, here is a little story for you._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

November in Maine. It's been twenty-nine years and Regina still hasn't gotten used to the fall weather.

Some days the air is still relatively warm, the temperatures rising high enough to make her sweat in her winter coat. Then the next day it will be bitterly cold, dipping below freezing, maybe even a hint of snow. And it's always damp, the steady wind carrying the moisture off the ocean in waves of fog and relentless rain.

Tonight Regina stands on the sidewalk across the street from Granny's diner. The few scattered streetlamps cast a pale orange reflection on the wet, slick streets. The cold air hangs damp and heavy around her and she draws the collar of her coat up around her neck in a futile effort to dispel the chill that has settled into her bones.

She's in the shadows, the dark, dark night hiding her form.

Across the road, the windows of Granny's are fogged with moisture, the thin film blurring its occupants into blobs of color and composition. Yet there is no mistaking the three figures in the booth nearest the door.

Henry sits with his back to the entrance, his shirt sleeve occasionally brushing against the condensation on the window, leaving behind streaks of water droplets and a clear view of his elbow and side. He's wearing a blue plaid shirt, not one that she picked out for him, but one that looks annoyingly like a shirt that David Nolan would wear. Prince Charming. His grandfather.

Despite the shirt, Regina's dark eyes watch him with a hunger she would never show in the light of day. Her baby, her little boy. Not so little anymore, but still hers. Or at least he _was_ hers...

Across the table from Henry is blur of red and blue, blonde hair and brown boots, a garish mash of colors that can only belong to the town's sheriff. And beside the sheriff, far enough away from the window to be only an indistinct blur of brown and black, sits a man.

Not just any man. This is Henry's father. The man who betrayed his girlfriend, sent her to jail on his behalf. Then left her a car and a cheesy key chain that she now wears around her neck. As if those things would make up for leaving his girlfriend to birth a child alone in jail.

Regina knows all of this, and then some. She has heard the rumors, listened to town gossip in a way that she has never cared to in the past. Not that people want to gossip with her, but she has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. She hears things. And the townsfolk, for the most part, just let her be.

Two weeks ago a portal had opened in the middle of Main Street depositing Mary Margaret and a very disheveled looking Emma Swan. It took almost a minute for the dust and debris tossed up by the vortex to settle, and only five minutes more for the citizens of the town to arrive, swarming their returning heroes.

Regina remembers Henry barreling head first into the sheriff's midsection, remembers the blonde woman's arm coming up to wrap around his back. She remembers Charming scooping his wife up into delighted arms.

She remembers the laughter of the townsfolk, the questions flying fast, one after another until Snow had taken a step back and held up her arms, asking for an hour of time with her family and promising a meeting after to explain everything.

She remembers the sheriff's eyes scanning the crowd over Henry's head. And she remembers the moment the sheriff's eyes had landed on hers and stuck. A quick nod of the blonde head, a small smile on the corner of her mouth, a faint look of relief and possibly even affection in those grey eyes. And then a feeling of shock – the sheriff had been looking for _her_? _Why?_

She remembers taking a hopeful step forward, thinking that maybe it would be okay. Maybe now that Emma and Snow were home Henry would forgive her. Would come back to her. Maybe things were finally improving.

And she remembers the moment, only seconds later, when it all fell apart again.

A masculine voice, one she had never heard before, hoarse and ragged. Calling out the sheriff's name.

She remembers the crowd parting, looking at this stranger in confusion and suspicion. She remembers watching the color drain from the sheriff's face, watching her sway on her feet. Red stepping up behind the blonde in silent support.

Emma Swan, tough in the face of any adversary, looking ready to faint. Her hand falling from Henry's shoulder to hang limply at her side.

Regina remembers all this in painful detail. She remembers the man, tired and unshaven, slightly wild. A touch of grey in the hair by his ears. The sheriff reaching out a tentative hand before falling into his arms. Tears of forgiveness flowing.

She remembers Henry's dark, curious eyes.

And she remembers the moment her heart stopped. The moment Emma Swan looked down at the child she had birthed eleven years ago and said, "Henry, this is your father."

xxx

So now she stands in the dark street and watches the little family through the window. The mist in the air has turned to a light rain. She blinks her eyes to clear the droplets from her lashes, but otherwise lets it fall around her unheeded.

Henry has been avoiding her. When she'd approached him tentatively after school one day he had rebuked her. Informed her that she hadn't tried hard enough to bring Emma and Snow back. Never mind that she was trying to stay away from magic. Never mind that she was trying to earn him back, to be worthy of his love. It wasn't good enough. It's never good enough.

For a moment she had felt the magic flare up, the heated fire run through her veins. She could _make_ him love her, _make_ him stay. But no, she couldn't do that to her son. And so she'd let him go. Gone to his birth mother. Gone to the man who hadn't even known he'd existed, who hadn't raised him or cared for him or loved him, but who now gets to wear the title of "father".

She watches as the blurry figure wraps an arm around the sheriff's shoulders. She can't see the blonde's expression, but sees her dip her head. Since her return to Storybrooke, since the return of her estranged love, the sheriff has seemed different somehow. Younger. Softer. Her gestures more awkward, more childish.

Regina finds that she doesn't like it. She misses the blonde's strength, her steely determination that her chosen path is the right path, the only path. For even when they had disagreed, had fought bitterly and hurtfully, they had both done so with a common goal in mind. Henry.

But now the blonde is a push-over to this strange man. She acquiesces quickly, her movements hopeful, eager to please.

After living in a town where nothing had changed for twenty-eight years, Regina finds all this unsettling. Sudden and alarming, the changes completely out of her control. And she knows that she has lost. Nothing will bring back the way things were. Nothing will bring back her son.

Her mind made up, Regina nods faintly in the darkness. She takes one last lingering look at Henry, a blur of blue and white and brown, and then squares her shoulders. She tosses the rain off her dark hair and strides purposefully to her black Mercedes.

Inside the car she slips out of her wet jacket and tosses it into the back seat. She starts the engine and flicks on the windshield wipers, turning the air vents on high to clear the windows as she pulls away from the curb.

As she drives she finds her mind wandering, thinking back over the past weeks and months. She thinks of Henry's death and his miraculous, magical return to life. She remembers the wraith, coming to suck her terrified soul. She remembers the empty, panicked feeling when she'd realized that her magic had not returned. And she remembers the moment Emma Swan had laid a hand on her arm, the magic flowing warm and easy between them.

As she remembers this moment, as her thoughts rest on the blonde sheriff, goose bumps rise on her arms and a familiar, aching feeling fills her chest. She thinks of what might have been.

What never could have been.

She drives faster through the pouring rain.

On the seat beside her is a map, yellow highlighting marking a route and a destination. A piece of paper with the address of a little motel. A bank account number. A thick stack of twenty dollar bills, neatly folded. And a sealed envelope with a list of instructions, written to herself.

She smiles faintly. The pain will soon be over. She will be able to start fresh. No magic. No thoughts of Daniel, dead twice now, once by her mother's hand and once by her own. No curse, no evil queen, no Henry and certainly no Emma Swan. She will be born anew.

Her headlights flash on a sign, glaringly bright in the dark night.

Leaving Storybrooke.


	2. Chapter 2

There is a funny tingling sensation, a rising of the hair on the back of Emma's neck. It's _her_. She knows that feeling, has known it for months in fact but has only recently begun to realize what it is, what it means.

Emma casts her eyes around the diner and then out the window but sees nothing, just condensation and the blackness of the night. Neal, ever-present and ever-persistent, leans towards her and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

She allows the gesture, not knowing what else to do. For so many years she has mourned this man. Thrown up a protective wall of sarcasm and nonchalance. Angry and sad in equal parts, only to discover that he's been there all along. Waited for her all along.

She only wishes that she could mirror the happiness she sees in his eyes.

She drops her gaze to her barely touched dinner, desperate to hold onto the tingling sensation. She wants to be somewhere quiet, somewhere alone. She needs to think.

Her eyes snap back into focus as Henry peppers them with yet another round of his endless questions. They try to dodge his queries with half-answers. No, they didn't meet in high-school. No, she never met Neal's parents. No, there was no engagement ring.

Henry doesn't seem to care though, just seems to be happy in their presence, happy to suddenly have all the missing pieces filled in. And Emma gets it, she truly does. Didn't she have the same questions for so many years?

But she notices that his eyes cast around too, unconsciously looking for something. Or someone. The same someone Emma has only recently admitted to herself that she is seeking as well. The tingle on the back of her neck informs her that that someone is close. And yet Emma knows that she's still impossibly far away.

The feeling fades and Emma sighs, a mixture of relief and disappointment. Neal nuzzles her cheek and she smiles at him half-heartedly.

And then something is wrong. It's an imminent, immediate feeling. She stands up, brushes off Neal's perplexed questions and scoops her coat off the bench beside her.

"Emma, where are you going?" Henry's voice is suddenly that of adult while she feels like a lost, desperate child. One look at her wild gaze has him standing as well. "I'm coming too," he informs her.

She hesitates, then nods in agreement. Because this concerns him as well.

They run to the car, heads ducked against the rain which is falling heavier and colder. Emma turns the engine, pushes the car into gear and has her foot on the gas pedal before the door is even fully shut behind her. She purposefully doesn't think about the frustrated look on the man's face behind them in the diner. About the way he threw his hands in the air, yet again, at her seemingly sudden flights of fancy.

Henry, beside her in the car, has picked up on her urgency. He leans forward to peer out the windshield into the night. She wonders if he knows what they're looking for. Who they're looking for. But she doesn't bother to tell him because her gut tells her that of course he knows.

There is a feeling of dread in her chest and she worries that she's too late. That she left this too long. She realizes suddenly that she knew this was coming and perhaps has been avoiding it. Now she may have missed her chance.

She pushes the Bug hard, its weak headlights barely cutting a path through the rain, faintly illuminating the road below the tires and the trees closing in around them. They whip around a corner and she feels the rear wheels loose traction. She cranks the steering wheel around and barely waits to feel the tires catch the road again before she pushes down on the gas pedal harder than ever.

She has no idea where they're going. And yet at the same time she knows exactly where to go.

And then they're there. The faint red tail lights glinting through the rain are Emma's only warning and she slams on the brakes. The dark silhouette of the car in front of them appears to be stopped, unmoving, but before Emma can breathe a sigh of relief the Mercedes' brake lights go out and the car begins to creep forward.

"No!" Barely realizing that the cry came from her own throat, Emma takes her foot off the clutch and lets the engine stall with a defeated sputter. She throws on the parking brake as she shoves the door open and stumbles out into the rain.

_Please please please._ The words are a mantra as she runs, her boots slick on the wet pavement, pushing her body to its limit. _Please let me get there in time._


	3. Chapter 3

Regina lets the car idle as she takes a last moment to remember her life. To remember her loves, her sorrows. Her eyes run over the white lettering on the sign, flashing bright in her headlights. _Leaving Storybrooke._ She chokes on the half-laugh, half-sob that rises suddenly in the back of her throat.

Once she passes the sign it will all be gone. She wonders what memories she will be left with, if any. Unlike the rest of the townsfolk under her curse, she did not receive any false memories. She figures she's likely to lose everything. To be left blank, like a patient with amnesia.

Hence the stack of cash. The identification, the bank account. The map to a hotel room where she's paid in advance for a week's stay. The detailed directions, written in her own hand, of what to do next. She will survive. She will find a way to move forward. For the little girl who had no fairy godmother to look out for her, this is the best she can do for herself.

She lets her thoughts stray one more time to her son and to his blonde mother. She wishes them well, both of them. It's a pure, honest wish.

Then she eases her foot off the brake, allowing her car to inch forward towards the town's limit.

She can't help but close her eyes as she nears the sign, bracing herself for the moment that everything will change.

And then there's a loud thump as something hits her car. It comes from near the back, on the driver's side, likely on the fender or the trunk. The thump comes again, fast, and in reflex her foot slams down on the brake.

The car skids to a halt and for a moment everything is quiet. Just the soft hum of the well-tuned engine, the faint swoosh of the windshield wipers, and the pounding of the rain on the metal roof of the car.

And then something looms outside her window. Large and white, the sight of the figure causes Regina to jump in alarm. Her hand flies to her chest and she barely manages to stifle the surprised shriek in her throat.

Someone is there.

xxx

Emma is frantic. The car in front of her is speeding up, she won't make it in time. Her fist flies out once, twice, pounding on the side of the Mercedes, willing it to come to a halt. She's managed to put a dent in the metal but she doesn't care. If they get through this, if the mayor remembers enough to be angry at her later, she'll take that anger with pleasure.

The car jerks to a stop and Emma's eyes fly to the green and white sign. The hood of the car has inched past the edge but the passenger compartment still seems to be on this side. Is that enough? Everyone in town has heard what happened to Sneezy, the dwarf who crossed the line and returned as a pharmacist with no memories other than those given to him by the curse.

She knows what Regina is trying to do, and she knows why she must stop her.

Two long strides carry her to the driver's side door. Her hands, wet and cold, fumble uselessly with the handle. Finally succeeding in her grip, she yanks the door open to find Regina huddled in the seat, eyes wide, a hand on her chest.

But is she in time?

xxx

Regina forces her hand from her chest and takes a deep, shaky breath. The chill of the sudden wind makes her shiver and she can feel the rain drops quickly soaking into her pants, chilling her thigh.

Her eyes narrow at the wet, wild figure leaning into her car. Wide grey eyes are staring at her in hope and fear. She sighs.

"Sheriff Swan," she utters, managing to sound only slightly shaky. "What _are_ you doing?"

The sudden look of utter relief on the blonde woman's face comes as a shock. The open, joyful smile that lights up her features. The sudden electricity in the sheriff's eyes that goes straight to Regina's belly.

The blonde woman straightens, peers down at Regina through the rain.

"Actually, the question Madam Mayor, is what are _you_ doing?" Her voice is light but there is an underlying hardness, a demand for answers.

Regina's gaze strays to the windshield wipers, still swooshing back on forth in the rain, then returns to meet the grey eyes firmly. "Just going for a drive, Sheriff. Nothing strange about that."

The sheriff cocks her head, disbelief clear on her features. Her arm gestures vaguely at the road in front of the vehicle. "That's the town limit," she states needlessly. "We all know what happens when someone crosses the line. So I ask again. What exactly are you doing?"

Regina huffs, an annoyed, impatient breath. "What do you think I'm doing?" she finally snaps out. "Why do you care? Don't you think it would be better? For everyone?"

Regina can feel her voice cracking on the last words and she shuts her mouth quickly, desperate to maintain her dignity. She watches as the blonde clenches her jaw, swallows visibly, and then moves forward, leaning back down into Regina's space.

"No," she says simply. "No, I don't think it would be better."

"For who?" Regina demands. Her eyes flash in the darkness. "Tell me Sheriff, who wouldn't be better off with the _Evil Queen_ vanquished and gone forever?"

"Oh, for the love of…" The blonde rolls her eyes in frustration. "Regina," she sighs. And then her arms are reaching out, grasping the collar of Regina's dress shirt. Regina's eyes widen, thinking perhaps she is about to be strangled, wondering if she should fight back or just let it happen. She feels herself being tugged forward.

And then the blonde is kissing her. Hard.

_Oh._ After a moment her eyes flutter shut involuntarily. Soft lips on hers, a tongue in her mouth. She moans faintly, pulling the sheriff closer, deepening the kiss. This is the missing piece.

And then a childish voice rings out over the pouring rain, over the hammering of her heart. "Ew, gross!"

Regina wrenches her lips from the sheriff's mouth, eyes flying wide in shock. Her hands are still wound tightly in the long, wet hair and as she eases away her forehead brushes gently against the sheriff's chin.

"Henry!" she chokes out. Startled and pleased, annoyed and embarrassed. And above all, hopeful.

Strong fingers tighten on the back of the sheriff's neck. Her dark eyes say it all and the blonde shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry," she mouths before slipping her fingers from Regina's collar, from her jaw bone. They pull apart gently and turn as one to face their son.

The sheriff straightens, raises her voice over the pounding rain. She speaks to Regina, and to Henry, but also to the world in general, the people behind them in the not-so-sleepy little town of Storybrooke. "It would be better for us, for _all_ of us, if you backed your car up, turned around and came home."

Regina's eyes dart back and forth between the sheriff and their son.

Henry's hair is plastered to his head, rain dripping down the side of his face. But he's smiling. "Come on Mom, let's go home."

"All of us?" Regina asks carefully.

"All of us," the sheriff repeats.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N Wow, y'all let me know what you think about cliff hangers, didn't you? The thing is, it's not really dissuading me from writing another chapter like that since I got so many comments on the last one! And yes, I admit it, I love the comments. So here's the deal - this chapter is not a cliff hanger. (You're welcome!) Keep those lovely comments coming and I promise I'll finish the story without any more cliff hangers. Sound fair? ;p_

_- DK  
_


	4. Chapter 4

The Bug's engine won't start so they just leave it, half on the shoulder, half on the pavement. Emma will call the tow truck in the morning; it's not like anyone else is likely to be traveling this way tonight.

She's hauled Regina out of the Mercedes and now the dark-haired woman stands off to the side of the road, huddled under a tree. Her body is hunched against the rain, her arm wrapped tightly around her son. The boy is leaning wet and shivering against her side, and they both watch Emma with wide brown eyes.

Emma is all too aware of the rain turning colder, the tiny ice pellets pelting her cheeks. She knows she needs to get them all inside. Somewhere warm, somewhere dry.

But to do that they need the Mercedes.

She eases herself tentatively into the driver's seat. While she's pretty sure that she's one of the only few who would be able to cross the line without losing anything, she's still not willing to take that chance. Not with Regina and Henry huddled at the side of the road, depending on her to make things right.

She turns the key and the engine jumps to life. Carefully she puts the car in reverse and backs up, putting a good hundred feet between the car and the Leaving Storybrooke sign. Finally she releases a shaky breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding.

Then Henry and Regina are running towards her, their feet splashing wildly in the puddles. Henry lets out a shriek of triumph as he lands sideways in the back seat. Regina follows him moments later, sinking into the passenger seat with a sigh.

Emma takes a moment to run her eyes over the other woman. She's wet, and she looks tired. Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back onto the headrest. But she looks peaceful. Accepting.

Emma nods and carefully turns the car around in the dark night until it's pointing towards town. She cranks the vents, pleased with the blast of hot, dry air. The drive back is quiet, just the sound of the slick road under the tires and the constant squirming of a wet, uncomfortable boy on the leather seat.

A few minutes later the car is edging down Main Street. Emma glances towards the windows of Granny's as she passes but the condensation prevents her from seeing in. From seeing if Neal is still there, still waiting for them.

Neal. There's a mess she needs to sort out. Emma's fingers rise unconsciously to the swan hanging from her neck. Yes, the man is Henry's father. She's surprised, and yet not so surprised, to find that's all that he is to her. The Emma who loved him is long gone.

Her fingers tighten around the pendant. A quick tug and the metal is pooling in her palm, still warm to the touch. She slides it quietly into her pocket. She'll give it Henry. One day.

She presses harder on the gas, leaving Granny's behind them in the night.

xxx

Regina's eyes snap open as the car jumps forward. She glances out the window just in time to see Granny's diner disappear behind them. Beside her the sheriff is quiet, resolute. Her eyes are fixed forward, watching the road, but Regina suspects that her mind is elsewhere.

She feels the panic starting to close in again, tightening around her throat. What will happen now? Will the sheriff simply drop her off and then leave with their son? Back to that man? Leaving her alone in that empty, soulless house?

It's what she deserves, she knows this. And yet the small child inside cries out in protest. It's not fair. One of these days she should get her happy ending. One of these days.

The car takes a left onto Mifflin Street and Regina reaches up to press the garage door opener clipped to the visor above her head. It's strange how normal that gesture feels when everything around her is anything but normal.

Once inside they work quietly as a team to get Henry warmed up. They pop him in a hot shower and then urge him into the pajamas which have been sitting unused in drawer for over a month. The sheriff hugs him good-night him first, leaning over his bed to plant a kiss on his forehead. She mumbles, "Love you, kid," into his damp hair and Regina can't help but feel approval at the way her son hugs the blonde tightly. At the very least she's been looking after him, loving him.

The sheriff stands and clears her throat softly, meeting Regina's eyes. "I'm just gonna…" She gestures over her shoulder with her thumb before backing out of the room.

Alone with her son for the first time in weeks, Regina is suddenly frozen to the spot. Her heart catches in her throat and she feels the tears stinging her eyes. She's still soaked through, cold and wet, and she's dismayed to find that she's shaking.

Henry's eyes find hers and he smiles, a sleepy, contented smile. He reaches out an arm and she flies to his side. Buries her cold nose in his warm neck, gratefully inhaling the clean boy smell that she's missed so much. She's worried about embarrassing him, about pushing it too far, so she backs off almost immediately. His eyes open and he smiles again.

His expression is somewhat sheepish, and a little embarrassed, but his words bring a fresh round of tears to her eyes. "I love you, Mom. I'm glad you're back."

She wants to point out that she's not the one who left. But she knows that's not entirely true either and so she just brushes a hand through his hair and whispers, "I love you too, Henry," before she clicks off his light and slides from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N I'm putting the rating up to Teen. There will be a little bit of "smooching", and a little bit of nudity. But nothing explicit.  
_

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Emma stands in the bathroom, towel-drying her hair. The towel is perfectly white, perfectly soft, perfectly laundered and pressed. She had hesitated, almost afraid to use it for something as mundane as wet hair. But her discomfort had won out.

She's stripped down to her white tank top which is only slightly damp, but her jeans are soaked, clinging uncomfortably to her legs and chafing when she walks. She eyes the shower longingly, wondering if it would be impolite to simply shuck her clothes and climb in. She's still so unsure about Regina. Unsure of her welcome. Unsure if Regina will let her stay, or will simply send her back out into the dark, rainy night.

Her eyes flick up as the woman in her thoughts appears in the bathroom door. Emma notes enviously that Regina has taken a moment to get changed. Yet somehow she still looks small and lost, arms crossed protectively over her chest, black yoga pants pooling around her bare feet.

The dark eyes that meet hers are unreadable.

Emma takes a tentative step forward, then another. She's not clear on her intentions but suddenly she is there, right in front of the dark-haired woman. Her heart catches in her throat and she tosses the wet towel vaguely in the direction of the bathroom sink.

Her fingers brush down the other woman's cheek, settling lightly on her jaw. Her other hand comes up to run gently along the softness of Regina's side, to wrap around her lower back.

She tugs gently, encounters a slight resistance, and then the dark-haired woman is melting into her. Their bodies fall together, Emma's heart pounding wildly in her chest. Regina's eyes are squeezed shut and she fumbles blindly, searching for Emma's lips. Emma tilts her head, meeting her half-way, her heart swelling at the small whimper that escapes the other woman's throat as their tongues touch.

Regina's hands are everywhere, running up and down her torso, tugging on her hair, skimming her bare shoulders. Then she feels Regina wince and pull away as her hands encounter the wet denim clinging to Emma's legs. The solution is simple and obvious.

Minutes later they are in the shower, the warm water causing Emma to groan in pleasure as she pulls Regina's wet, slippery body against her own. They stand there for what could be minutes, or maybe hours, as their bodies warm and their pulses slow until their hearts are beating as one.

And then Regina's hands are moving, sliding down the small of Emma's back, over her buttocks, and then up again. Shoulder blades, soft neck, long blond hair that appears darker than usual under the water.

Emma tastes the water in the hollow of Regina's neck, sucks an ear lobe. She pushes a thigh between the darker woman's legs, slippery and soft, warm and wet.

A gasp, and then her name, uttered softly through wondrous lips. "_Emma_."

And again, a whisper in her ear. "Emma." It's a plea, a benediction. It's hope.

Emma fumbles for the taps and shuts off the cooling water. They stumble out of the shower, bodies still entwined. Forgoing the towels, Regina pulls away only long enough to capture Emma's lips in a sweet kiss. Then she grasps Emma's fingers and leads her down the hallway to the bedroom, leaving a series of wet footprint in their wake.

The door shuts firmly behind them.

xxx

Later, Regina rolls onto her side to face the blonde-haired woman sharing her bed. She can hear the rain still falling on the roof above their heads but the sound is muffled, soft. She's warm, pleasantly tired, wonderfully content. For the first time in a very long time she feels safe - a strange and amazing sensation.

Warm grey eyes meet hers in the dim light filtering in from the street.

She doesn't want to ask, but she feels compelled to nonetheless. "What happens now?" she whispers, frustrated at the slight tremor of uncertainty in her voice.

"We move forward," comes the cryptic response.

"What about-"

"Neal?" The blonde sighs, eyes roaming the corners of the room before returning to meet Regina's squarely. "Neal is in the past. Henry has met his father, which is good I think…"

Regina nods, not daring to speak quite yet.

"But that's all he is. Someone from my past. Not someone from my future."

The words are decisive, dismissive. It's clear she's made up her mind. And Regina is pleased to note that this is her Emma. The headstrong, independent, confident woman that she's been butting heads with for the past year. The woman who will go toe to toe with her on anything. The woman who will always stand up for what she believes in.

And apparently, the woman who will save her heart.

There's still a lot that they need to talk about, but all that can wait for morning.

Regina smiles, her eyes sliding shut. A moment later they spring open again.

"Miss Swan, did you put a dent in my car?"

_End._


End file.
